


Thicker than Water

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: F/M, Family Gatherings, Holidays, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane brings Jesse to an extended Margolis family gathering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker than Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waltzmatildah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltzmatildah/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this.

“If you could have any superpower, what would it be?” Jane Margolis asked, tossing a rubber ball against the ceiling. Her father was going to be annoyed if he noticed, but hopefully he wouldn’t decide to spend his next visit (or as Jane liked to refer to them in her head, inspection) looking upwards. She was sure he would find enough wrong about how she was living that he wouldn’t even look at the ceiling.

“X-Ray vision, but just through clothes,” her boyfriend, Jesse, replied, and Jane rolled over to throw the ball at him. 

“Pervert,” she told him.

“Okay,” Jesse said with a grin as he moved out of the way, “What about you? What superpower would you have?”

“Are we going apart from Apology Girl? Because I don’t want to be locked into that. I don’t know what power she would even have.”

“The power to be incredibly hot.”

Jane sat up, looked over at Jesse, and rolled her eyes.

“That’s not a superpower. That’s an inconvenience when you walk down crowded streets. You should have seen the first time I wore a skirt in downtown Phoenix. Some weird guy made up a song for me that seemed to go ‘penis and balls and penis and balls…’ That was the refrain, at least. I’m sure it had a verse that you could really dance to.”

Jesse blinked at her.

“Could we put it to a dub-step beat?” he asked, standing up. “I could add a rap.”

“About what?” Jane said with a snicker, “The scrotum?” 

She pulled up her knees to the bed and leaned in to press a kiss against Jesse’s hand.

“We should get out and do something. I want to ramble.”

“And do what?” Jane asked. “We already went to the movies twice this week. There’s nothing else even good out. I’m bored as hell.”

“Maybe we could go out and fight crime or something. Like real superheroes.”

Jane rolled her eyes and looked over at him.

“Do you even realize how exhausting that would me? Like, yeah, Superman probably gets the best table in the restaurant, but he wouldn’t actually have time to sit down and ever eat anything – everyone would keep coming up to him and begging for him to save Little Nell from Snidely Whiplash.”

“You combined a few different shows there,” Jesse mused. “I don’t know. It’d be good to know that you’re, well, good.”

Jane tilted her head.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… sometimes I don’t know.”

Jane opened her mouth. She wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure what – maybe it would be to assure Jesse that he was good; in her eyes, her certainly was. Or maybe it would be to assure him that sometimes she wondered if she was good, too.

But neither of those things could come out of her mouth; they both felt too close, too deep under the skin. They flew in the face of her promise to herself to keep everything casual, to never let herself get hurt.

So she put her hands on Jesse’s shirt and pulled it off, before pulling him into a kiss.

This was easier.

***

“Listen, you promised that you would introduce me to your father this time. You promised.”  
Jane sighed. How was she going to get out of this one? She had to admit that Jesse’s request wasn’t all that unusual, or excessive, but it was uncomfortable. It made her feet tingle and made her want to run. It made her want to drag her fingers over her face and scratch at all the little spaces she knew were there, but that she’d learned to ignore over the years. To scar herself up.

“I know I did,” she started, “And I know it’s… the holidays, and it’s expected, but… I mean, it’s also expected that people are going to make complete asses of themselves, someone will get drunk, you’ll find something out about your cousins that you really never wanted to know, and it’s all going to be an overall disaster. So… why don’t we go to your parents’ house instead? At least it will be new drama. And not drama about me.”

“My parents don’t even like me,” Jesse told her, “They would probably tell you to run a mile and that you’re a nice girl that can do better.”  
Jane tilted her head to the side.

“Well, I know I can do better, but I’m not a nice girl,” she quipped. “Okay, listen, will it completely ruin your Christmas if I don’t bring you to meet my dad? And potentially whatever other pain-in-the-ass family members might decide to make an appearance?”

“Yes.” Jesse tugged at her sleeve like an insolent child. “It really would. Bah, humbug, and all that stuff.”

Jane rolled her eyes so emphatically she felt like they might actually get stuck in their sockets.

“You know not what you ask, but… well, here goes. Get yourself a nicer pair of pants.”

***

It was kind of like dressing a paper doll. As much as Jane had declared, both out loud and to herself, that she didn’t care what her family thought… she must care, because she was blow-drying Jesse’s hair. For the fifth time. 

“Maybe you need a haircut,” she mused. “You still look like you just walked out of a remake of Mallrats.”

“What’s wrong with that? Mallrats kicked ass, yo.”

“Not to my father. That man makes six figures a year and he’s already eating himself because I work as a tattoo artist and have basically been a failure from start to finish. So I would at least like to bring home a vaguely respectable date and not hasten his early death.”

Jane reached out to play with Jesse’s collar. It did make him look more respectable, but also had the side effect of making him look like a Mormon missionary. Maybe she could hand him some literature to give to the rest of her family.

She smirked.

Wouldn’t they all get a kick out of that. Well, she would, at least.

***

Jane pulled at her shirt and smoothed it out. She was dressed in all-black, in a clingy shirt decorated with a bunch of skulls on it. Jesse had reminded her that she had made him have to look professional, and she had reminded him that for her profession, she was.

“This is probably the fanciest thing I have. If there’s a funeral, I’ll buy something nicer. Or I’ll wear this. It fits the whole motif, don’t you think?”

She made her way up the steps to her father’s house and rang the doorbell, as Jesse followed behind her.

The door opened a moment later, and Donald Margolis smiled at her, before giving Jesse a curt nod.

“Dad,” Jane said, then cleared her throat, “This is Jesse. My boyfriend.”

Jesse awkwardly extended his hand, and Donald shook it. He seemed about ready to sigh, but finally he ushered them inside.

“Your aunts and cousins should be here any minute now,” Donald told her. Jane let out a loud groan. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted me to invite them over for Christmas. You started this tradition.”

“Yeah, when I was thirteen and sad that everyone else had aunts and cousins and I didn’t. I then learned to regret it.”

“Didn’t you say you hated them all?”

Donald shrugged.

“I also never said I stopped. But I did it for you. And now they keep coming. So you’re not getting out of this one, Jane.”

She rolled her eyes and looked over at Jesse.

“You see what I have to deal with? Let me give you a quick rundown – my dad has one sister, Carol, who has a daughter, Brandi. My mom had two sisters, Diane and Dolores. She was Dinah, by the way, it’s actually horrible – Dolores has no kids, thank God, but Diane has a daughter named Brenda.”

Jesse stared at her. 

“Should I take out a score card?” he quipped.

“Nah. Just wait. This ought to be interesting.”

Jesse’s eyes went wide, and Donald smiled at him.

Well, Jane figured, at least this wasn’t a complete disaster. Those two were getting along, at least.

***

Diane and Brenda were the first to arrive, with apologies that Diane’s husband hadn’t been able to make it.

“My dad nearly laid him out last time,” Jane whispered to Jesse. “That’s why he actually doesn’t want to come. My dad may be old, but I think he’s got a pretty fierce right hook.”

Jesse’s eyes went wide and he turned back to the guests – Diane had big blonde hair that made her look like someone who had never left the 1980’s, while Brenda was big and buxom, equally blonde, and looked like she had just walked off the set of Baywatch. Jane hated Brenda, and her tolerance for Diane was minimal. She reminded herself that she could choose to just not come one year, or tell her dad to call the whole thing off – for some reason, she hadn’t.

“Well hello,” Diane said, extending her hand, “How are you, Jane? Gosh, you look more and more like Dinah every year.”

Jane was caught somewhere between being flattered and uncomfortable. She wondered, not for the first time, how these three had grown up together. What had they all been like? All she really knew about her mother was that she had been quiet, that she loved reading, and that she had a degree in World Religions.

What she knew about Aunt Diane, thus far, was that: everyone in her family was extremely blonde, she and her daughter couldn’t stop applauding every decision the other made, and that she was still pissed off at her sister for marrying Donald Margolis.

“Hi, Aunt Diane. This… is my boyfriend, Jesse. He’s going to community college for art.” She figured she would let Jesse know his cover story up front, so they didn’t have to worry about coming up with two sets of them.

“How darling,” Diane replied. “And you Jane? How have you been… keeping yourself these days?”

It wasn’t like Donald would have told them, but somehow that woman knew. Jane narrowed her eyes.

“I’ve been doing great. Keeping busy… I’m managing the duplex. That’s how I met this one.” She slapped Jesse on the back so hard that he flinched a little. She took a deep breath, tried to remind herself that it didn’t matter; Diane wasn’t some stand-in for her mother, she was just a lady, just her aunt. Tying herself in knots over what the two blondes might think of her and her past would be playing into a game she had promised herself long ago never to play. “How about you?” Jane ventured to them both. “What have you both been up to?”

“We co-own a fabric store,” Brenda gushed. “It’s really time-consuming but so rewarding. We get so many people coming in – you ought to come in!”

“I’m not really into fabric,” Jane mused. 

“I figured,” Brenda replied dryly. 

Neither of them had, as of yet, greeted Donald, and when Jane gazed over he was looking at them with an expression of irritation.

Jane let out a sigh. Why had she even called for this stupid tradition in the first place? Had she been that desperate to let her fingers brush what her classmates had always held in the palm of their hands?   
She opened her mouth to make some sort of reply, but was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. 

She rushed to go open it and found Dolores. She was equally blonde (Jane wondered how the hell the brunette Dinah had come out of this family at all) who also provided sympathies that her husband couldn’t make it.

While Dolores’ husband had once gotten the award of “slightly more tolerable than” Diane’s husband, Jane figured he had probably not shown up for the same reason as him. She was probably going to have to send her father some anger-management brochures – maybe her old rehab had some groups or something.

“Hello, Jane!” Dolores said after her explanation, then wrapped her arms around her. 

“Hey, Aunt Dolores,” Jane mumbled. “Come in. It’s cold out. For Albuquerque, at least.”

She made her way inside with a low tsk.

“You know, Janie, I don’t know why your father thought it was a good idea to move to this barren wasteland. He should have stayed in Phoenix. It’s a sin, us having to drive all the way out here to only see our niece once a year.”

Donald met Jane’s eye and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, hello, Donald,” Dolores said, giving him a nod of her head. “Jane looks just like Dinah, doesn’t she?”

“She certainly does,” Donald agreed. 

“Who else are we waiting for?”

“My sister, Carol.”

“Oh,” Dolores responded, pressing her lips together. She guided over to talk to Diane and Brenda, leaving Jesse, Jane, and Donald to talk amongst themselves.

“They seem nice,” Jesse ventured in a non-committal tone.

“Good kid,” Donald told Jane. “He already knows how to lie politely. Good skill to have.” He gave Jesse a brief pat on the back.

***

It was a good hour or so before Carol and Brandi appeared at Donald’s door. Donald shot Jane a look before they made their way over, which Jane took to mean that she ought to behave.

This had been her idea, all those years ago, after all.

But she couldn’t even blame Carol and Brandi on wanting to be close to her mother – instead, it was just wanting to be close to something, maybe, wanting to have a family.

Even if she hated them and they hated her in turn.

She could remember the coldness with which Brandi had answered the phone after Jane had gotten out of rehab.

“Your mother would be ashamed of you, turning into a junkie. Don’t call me.”

But that next year, she had shown up at the family get-together as if nothing had happened, leading Jane to wonder if it was all in her head.

Carol smiled as she walked over to Jane.

“You’re looking lovely.”

Thirty-five year old Brandi looked Jane up and down and gestured to her shirt. 

“What a little teenager,” she declared, in a tone of voice as if she was discussing a particularly adorable baby sticking its fingers up its nose. 

“Yeah, well,” Jane replied, taking a too-hard bite out of her lip. “This is Jesse. I fuck him.”

“You’re such a riot, Jane,” Carol declared, and moved away to talk to Donald.

“Another junkie Christmas,” Brandi whispered, “Don’t try to snort all the snow.”

***

“Do you see what I mean?” Jane was on the back step, smoking, letting the inhale take her mind somewhere else. She wasn’t sure where, exactly, but somewhere that she wasn’t the family black sheep, somewhere Donald wouldn’t be expected to apologize for contributing half of his DNA to her. 

“They’re a bunch of dicks,” Jesse replied. He took her cigarette and sucking in a breath, then letting it out. Maybe it was Jane’s imagination, but it did seem like little flecks of snow were beginning to fall from the clouds to scatter the backyard. “Your dad seems all right, though. What about Carol’s husband?”

“Sick,” Jane replied with air-quotes. “Used to tell my dad about all the people he would beat up, back in the day. Now he’s old and no one is scared of him anymore.”

“Seems a bit of a running theme,” Jesse mused. “Should I be scared of your dad?”

“Probably. He could probably pick you up and throw you if he wanted to. I don’t think he wants to, though. At the very least, you’re pretty low on his list.” She took the cigarette back and tapped some of the ash off on the step. “All I ever wanted was this, you know? It’s what I asked for when I was thirteen, for Christmas, and he went and got it for me even though he can’t stand any of them. He’d be content to live in his house, alone, go to work, direct his planes, make huge amounts of money and use it to supplement my loser lifestyle. I guess he’s trying to make up for the fact that I didn’t have…” She trailed off and let out a sigh. “I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s not going to change anything. I had all these… plans that they were going to tell me all about what she was like. That I’d find a diary and every age I was, I could read about what she was like, too. That I could jump inside some pages and figure her out. But I’m never going to. They don’t care about me – they just want to lord it over my dad.”

“Then why do you keep coming to these? I mean, just tell your dad you don’t want to anymore, and I’m sure he’d be glad not to have them, next year.”

Jane shrugged.

“I guess because… part of me still cares. Thinks that if they see me enough times they’ll want… I don’t know, something.”

Jesse looked at her.

“Yeah. I know the feeling. Sometimes you think if you can impress someone enough, they’ll say, you know, ‘well done’, or ‘good job’, or they’ll finally say they’re proud of you.”

Jane stomped out the cigarette and laid her head on Jesse’s shoulder.

“But they never do, do they?”

Jesse shook his head.

“I don’t think so.”


End file.
